


The Bloodhound

by Zerrat



Series: Other Side of a Saber's Edge [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Divergent Plots, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:30:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerrat/pseuds/Zerrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Pulse l’Cie attack the fal’Cie Kujata creates a relentless hunter, bent on avenging lost lives. For Lightning, things aren’t ever going to be the same again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bloodhound

**Author's Note:**

> These are **unrelated, parallel worlds,** twists in time or alternate events that connected to the characters and world of FFXIII. For example, the story below is a look at what might have happened if Lightning became the Cocoon l’Cie that was meant to hunt the Pulse l’Cie, instead of Dajh. The next chapter could be about Summoner Serah and her two guardians Lightning and Snow in a FFX AU, or we might see what happened if Maqui tagged along with Snow to get Serah back from the Vestige. It could be anything. It could be about any given character! Some will be grim, some will be just for the lulz.

It had been a routine mission to Euride Gorge Plant, nothing special. Just another day of what was meant to be boring guard duty at one of Cocoon’s fal’Cie treasures, babysitting tourists and taking mouthy bastards down a few pegs when they got too loud about the crowds. It wasn’t the most exciting job, but looking back, Lightning wished that it had gone on forever so that she could have the freedom to appreciate her life before it had been snatched away in an instant.

She should never have followed those two foreigners into the Euride Gorge Plant. She remembered them clearly, probably because of the way they'd been dressed. There had been a tall, dark-haired woman in blue and a shorter girl with hair as red as fire. Both had been dressed in strange and exotic clothing, and both seemed entirely out of place among the influx of Cocoon tourists.

That hadn't been the tipping point, however. It had been the directly challenging look the dark-haired one had shot in her direction, and the shadows of guilt in the redhead’s eyes. A strange, troubling mix. Of course she’d followed them.

On the outside, Lightning kept herself calm and her features apathetic, but suddenly she was paying complete attention to those two strangers. There was arrogance and self-assurance in the way the older one moved, contrasting to the more cautious movements of the younger. Just two tourists from some backwater town in Cocoon’s far reaches, or was it something else entirely? Lightning’s fingers brushed the hilt of her blazefire saber, feeling her stomach grow cold.

The two had been lingering around the entrance to the power plant, loitering and talking in low voices, and when they vanished from Lightning’s field of vision, the full implications hit her solidly. They were in the power plant now, getting closer to the fal’Cie Kujata, and it was her job to stop them. Maybe she'd been a little too eager to jump in, maybe she should have waited for the backup to arrive.

Lightning hadn't hesitated as she pushed her way through the swinging doors that were usually barred, ignoring the sudden blaring of alarms from within the plant as something up ahead screamed danger to the fal’Cie. Lightning’s grip tightened on her weapon, shifting it from sword mode to gun with a sharp jerk. There was more to those two women that what first met the eye, that much was clear.

Acrid smoke hung in the air, burning her eyes and her throat as she jogged deeper into the plant. Lightning could barely see a few feet ahead of her, but she was wary, she was ready –

“-but Fang, we don’t even know what our Focus _is.”_

The voice was timid, hesitating, and strangely accented. Lightning frowned, edging closer. Focus?

“And I’m dead certain that this here Cocoon fal’Cie will be able to give us a little hand in working it out. Maybe if we destroy the thing, we could use the confusion to make a break for Gran Pulse.” Another voice, also with that strange twang.

 _Pulse l’Cie._ Lightning’s entire body went cold as the two foreigners came into view. She pressed herself up against the wall, her mind racing. _Here. Right now. Got to stop them from destroying Kujata. If they do, this whole plant could blow and it’ll be good night Euride Gorge._

There was no hesitation as she stepped out from her hiding place, training her gun on the dark haired one. The smoke made her eyes water, but she couldn’t blink. One instant and it could be over for her. These were Pulse l’Cie, the most dangerous beings to exist. It was Lightning’s sworn duty to taken them down if they showed up, no matter how steep the odds.

“Stop right where you are.” Lightning’s voice was cold, level, as the two Pulse l’Cie looked up from their observation of Kujata.

“Hey, look. It’s one of those _soft_ Cocoon soldiers! What’re you gonna to do? Let the fal’Cie do all your work in killing us?” The dark haired one scoffed as the redhead shot her co-conspirator a frightened look.

“This entire place is crawling with Guardian Corps men-” A jolt suddenly shot through her chest, a sudden wave of pain and nausea sending Lightning to one knee. The skin on her chest _burned_ like nothing she’d ever felt before, it was like the skin had been suddenly sliced away and doused in salt. Her vision was swimming. Fal’Cie, what was happening? She’d dropped her weapon, she realized, and she fumbled for it desperately.

 _Confronted with two Pulse l’Cie and you up and decide to get heartburn? Get on your feet, soldier._ Her body seemed to have forgotten how to work.

“Hey, are you all right?” the younger l’Cie asked, and the footsteps on the plant’s metal floor echoed loudly in Lightning's ears. The touch of cool, dry hands on her face made her shiver, and Lightning saw a pair of bright green eyes, that shock of red hair. There was the smell of something ancient and overwhelming from the girl, and Lightning lashed out blindly, shoving the Pulse l’Cie away,

“Vanille, it’s too late for her. Looks like the fal’Cie decided to make itself a protector. Vanille, we gotta get out of here. Now.” The older l’Cie’s voice was harsh, and she dragged the redheaded l’Cie behind her roughly as they fled the plant. Lightning struggled to go after them – some deep urge drove her to go after them, to follow them – but fell to the ground, gasping, as her knees gave out again.

 _Made itself a **protector.**_ Lightning’s chest still burned, as if she’d been branded. But that was exactly it, wasn’t it? _A Cocoon l’Cie, then. Serah, I’m sorry._

###

It seemed like it was only moments before PSICOM showed up to take control of the situation. Just moments. If they’d been there at the start, then maybe Lightning wouldn’t have had to confront those Pulse l’Cie herself, she noted bitterly as she was marched to one of the plant’s spare offices and seated at the desk inside. Her head still felt fuzzy and vague, the skin on her chest no longer burned, but itched. She tried to ignore it.

Lightning looked up as a woman with glasses and long silver hair strode into the room. She could remember the woman – one Jihl Nabaat, from PSICOM. Not long ago, Jihl had been interested in recruiting Lightning for the division, citing her as ‘an unappreciated new talent, wasting away in the ranks of the Guardian Corps’. Now, Lightning wished she’d bought into the unsubtle flattery and had taken the job. This whole mess would never have happened, and she’d probably be at home with Serah…

Jihl adjusted her glasses as she took the chair opposite from Lightning. Despite the Pulse incident not an hour ago, she was poised, calm.

“Sergeant Lightning Farron of the Guardian Corps, correct?” The woman smiled at her, but if anything, Lightning felt colder than ever. As if sensing her numbness, Jihl simply continued. “The first order of business is to discover the Focus the fal’Cie Kujata has given you.”

Lightning’s stomach tightened. That wasn’t what Lightning wanted to do. She just wanted to go home and break the news to Serah already. Lightning clenched her fist. She’d promised Serah that she’d be there, always. Now she either faced eternity as a crystal or a living death as a monster.

This wasn’t the way things were meant to have gone.

Jihl’s green eyes were still fixed on her, and Lightning forced her emotions back under control until she was calm again.

“Pay attention, Sergeant Farron. You must tell us everything about the events leading up to your selection. After that, we’ll be running a battery of tests, which will help us discover what it is that Kujata wishes you to do.”

As Lightning began to report the events, slowly and haltingly, she’d never thought her dreams and wishes were so far from her reach as they were now. L’Cie didn’t have dreams, or wishes – just a Focus. The thought lay heavily on her heart.

###

Serah froze, the phone nearly slipping from her fingers. She held on, her heart pounding.

_“Serah? Are you okay?”_

“Y-yeah, sis. I just… a _Cocoon_ l’Cie?” It had to be some kind of horrible coincidence. Five days after she’d been branded a Pulse l’Cie, her sister was taken as a Cocoon l’Cie…? It bordered on the absurd. She wanted to laugh hysterically, confess everything to her sister, but all she could do was sit on the couch, motionless, as Lightning did her best to console her. Snow sat beside her, rubbing her shoulder and arm as he caught the distressed look in her eyes.

 _“I know… it’s a lot to take in.”_ Claire’s voice sounded weary. _“I can’t leave this place, not until PSICOM’s figured out what I have to do.”_

Serah furiously blinked back tears. Had it been her fault that Claire had been selected as a Cocoon l’Cie? Were the fal’Cie truly so cruel as to make her only family her sworn enemy?

“Sis…” Serah’s hand twisted in her skirt. She had to tell her sister what was going on. She’d put it off so many times now. No longer.

“Please, listen to me. There’s something I have to tell you.”

She might be dooming herself to a painful execution, to an end as one of the feared Pulsian terrorists, but if there was even a small chance that Serah could protect her sister from becoming a cie’th, she’d be damned if she wouldn’t take it. Claire had tried so hard to protect her – in the end, Serah supposed she was just returning the favour.

_“It’s gonna have to wait, Serah. I’ve gotta go. They want to run a few more tests. Maybe after we check out this old Pulse relic in Bodhum, they’ll let me come home for a while.”_

With that firm dismissal, the connection between them was severed. Serah let the phone clatter to the ground, burying her face in her hands. Snow held her as she sobbed, whispering that it would all work out. Serah let him stroke her hair, even as she bitterly clutched at the brand that had ruined everything.

There had to be a way to stop this, save her sister. Serah just had to think of _what._

###

The old Pulse Vestige, previously thought to be nothing more than a low-profile Bodhum tourist attraction, had ended up concealing the most dangerous artifact known to Cocoon. Pried open like an old tomb, the Vestige had housed a Pulse fal’Cie. The stench of age and rotting had been enough to make Lightning gag as she approached it. In the back of her mind, something had screamed fal’Cie, and its association with the stench had been automatic and undeniable.

It was the smell of Pulse, of its wretched fal’Cie and damned l’Cie. In such a close proximity, the stench had been choking.

The response from PSICOM had been as fast as it was brutal, and Lightning had been shunted off to a small cabin on the PSICOM flagship _Palamecia_ to twiddle her thumbs and wait for news on her finding. It had been too bad that simply locating the Pulse fal’Cie wasn’t enough to complete her Focus, but she supposed that life couldn’t be that easy.

Maybe it was just by chance, that she’d overheard a pair of PSICOM officers talking about something called the Purge. Maybe it was just chance that they’d said that everyone in Bodhum for the Fireworks Festival was now compromised, tainted by the Pulse fal’Cie. That everyone in the area would be herded into the Hanging Edge and executed. The PSICOM officers had muttered something about the extremeness of the Sanctum’s response, but at that point Lightning was already moving.

She had to be quiet, silent – the Sanctum would not simply allow their best weapon against Pulse l’Cie to simply walk into an advanced military operation. She would ensure that they would have no damn choice.

Lightning managed to make it to the airship hanger before she was finally detected. Jihl Nabaat was leading the troops that dared to stand in her way. The fight was short and brutal – the troops had gone down first, useless under the onslaught of a desperate l’Cie, but Jihl’s electric-charged nightstick had ensured that when she got a solid blow, Lightning had gone down. Hard.

She awoke in her room – her _cell_ – in the presence of Nabaat again. She wasn’t tied or bound. A mistake? No. A woman like Jihl Nabaat didn’t make mistakes. Nabaat was always in control.

“I have to find my sister,” Lightning ground out, staggering to her feet. The cool press of Jihl’s nightstick against her neck was all the warning Lightning needed. She sat down heavily at the table again, burying her face in her hands. Nabaat didn’t understand. Serah was Lightning’s only remaining family. “Serah’s in Bodhum and I can’t just let her be Purged!”

A moment of silence, as Jihl Nabaat adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses.

“We will find your sister, Farron. The best thing _you_ can do, is to lend your abilities to the Sanctum. Such a service _will_ be repaid, Sergeant.” Jihl’s voice was cool and controlled, and the woman smiled. Her gloved hand reached out, touching Lightning’s cheek for just a moment. “Consider that a promise.”

###

Lightning supposed that PSICOM had found her sister, in the end. Serah Farron, now nothing but a chunk of crystal, right at the bottom of the now-crystallized Lake Bresha. She stared at Serah’s face, her body, knowing her sister was forever locked in a crystal slumber. Lightning circled the crystal likeness of her sister, wondering how. How could this have happened? She felt numb, disbelieving. This wasn’t happening to her.

“We have reason to believe that your sister became a Pulse l’Cie not long before the Euride Gorge incident,” Jihl was telling her, as Lightning knelt to examine the crystal fragments at the base of the crystal statue. Of _Serah,_ she reminded herself firmly. Serah, who was never, ever going to wake up again.

It was as good as being dead.

This entire area reeked of Pulse, of old magic, of danger and hatred. From the looks of the crystal fragments, though, somebody had tried to dig Serah from the bottom of the lake. They’d failed and left her there.

“The l’Cie I met at Euride Gorge, they must have come from the Vestige I found in Bodhum.” Lightning stood, scanning the forest of crystal around her. Had she seen movement, or was it just her imagination? She couldn’t focus properly, not with the reek of Pulsian magic all through the place. “They must have opened the Vestige, and they made Serah a l’Cie.”

“So it would seem, Sergeant.”

“Then I already know my Focus.” Lightning’s voice was harsh in her own ears, but she was too deadened inside to care. “They took my family. I’ll take their lives.”

As Serah’s crystal was carefully extracted by PSICOM engineers, Lightning began to plan. There was nothing left to hold her back anymore.


End file.
